


you walked in and my heart went boom

by diefacingourfoes



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Canon Era, M/M, Pining, ultimately happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-06
Updated: 2015-11-06
Packaged: 2018-04-30 06:50:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5154305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diefacingourfoes/pseuds/diefacingourfoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Melchior is not nearly as eloquent as his reputation would have you believe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you walked in and my heart went boom

**Author's Note:**

> There is some talk of sexual attraction in this, and I am hella ace, so there's like a 95% chance I got it wrong. Please correct me on any mistakes I made.

Melchior couldn’t go on like this.

            Moritz was his _best friend_. Moritz had been his best friend since they were seven. Being friends with Moritz had been as automatic as breathing. It was something they both needed, but it wasn’t something they thought about or had to work on. It just happened, and it worked and it was right.

            They had planned it all out, when they were kids. They would keep being best friends their whole life. They would go to the same university so they could keep collaborating on schoolwork, and then Melchior would become a lawyer or a politician, and Moritz would become…something, and they would get married and live in the same neighborhood, and their wives would _also_ be best friends because Melchior and Moritz would be spending all their time together anyway, and their kids would be best friends, and that’s how it would be, Melchior and Moritz, until the day they died. As they got older, both of them realized that that fantasy was slightly ridiculous, but the idea had been the same. Grow up, go to the same school, live near each other after marriage and stay best friends. Neither of them could really imagine how their lives would work without the other in it.

            Melchior falling in love with Moritz had definitely not been part of the plan. The plan may have become a little bit hazy as they got older, but Melchior could say with certainty that that was Not. In. The. Plan.

            Melchior couldn’t say for certain when he’d fallen in love with Moritz. It had been a process. Moritz had always been the center of his world. Outside of his family, he was the person Melchior cared the most about. Melchior had always loved Moritz, and as a result, he hadn’t realized that love had become “in love.” Until he had. And it felt like a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head.

            Realizing he was attracted to Moritz hadn’t been the surprising part. That had happened long before any thoughts of “in love” had entered Melchior’s brain. Around when he was thirteen, he started looking at girls differently than he had before, and it didn’t take him long to realize that the way he felt when he was looking at a pretty girl wasn’t much different from the way he felt when he was looking at an attractive boy. This had caused a slight amount of panic, but less than one might expect. And Moritz was handsome, so _of course_ he was attracted to Moritz. It didn’t worry him all that much. Melchior found plenty of people attractive. It wasn’t a problem.

            And then his little- whatever it was- with Wendla had happened. They had had their trysts in the woods and walked each other to wherever the other was going whenever possible and casually touched each other in public as much as they could get away with it without anyone noticing. And he still preferred Moritz’s company to Wendla’s. Which also made sense. Moritz was his best friend; Wendla was just the girl he was seeing.

            Melchior remembers distinctly the moment he realized things had gone too far. He was walking Wendla back home- they were taking a roundabout route through the woods, looking at the scenery. He was holding her hand. He experienced a flash of desire- it was the first time this desire had been elucidated into conscious thought, but not, as was immediately clear to him, the first time he had felt it- and for a moment, there was a desperate longing for Moritz to be with him instead of Wendla, to hold _his_ hand as they walked through the woods.

            The urge shocked him, and quite frankly, scared him. What was all the more terrifying, though, was how familiar it felt, as if he had felt it hundreds of times before.

            It would not be the last time. Melchior found himself constantly consumed with the desire to be around his best friend, to be close to him, to hold him, to profess his feelings in words that would make the sappiest romantic poet cringe. He found himself casually touching Moritz more than ever before- sitting far too close to him while they were doing homework, bumping his hand against Moritz’s as they walked to school, lightly touching his arm or hair or face in regular conversation. Moritz had to have noticed the change. He didn’t say anything.

            Wendla, once so desirable to him in both her body and person, now seemed like a poor substitute. He picked her flowers, he showed her the stars, he kissed her more aggressively than ever before to try to eradicate his feelings, and every second of it he could only think of Moritz. Numerous times, he found himself on the verge of breathing Moritz’s name when Wendla’s mouth was on his, only realizing his mistake a second before it happened, horrified.

            She had broken things off with him about two weeks after the initial change. Melchior had been, quite frankly, relieved.

            The end of his relationship with Wendla meant that thoughts of Moritz took greater and greater precedence in his mind. He found himself unable to concentrate on his schoolwork, something that had never happened before. He knew it was affecting his relationship with Moritz. The ease with which their friendship had once sailed along was now gone, and Melchior found himself over-analyzing every interaction with him and acting completely differently than he had previously. And it weighed on him. He had always told Moritz everything, even his most shameful secrets that he could never tell anyone else. To hide something from him of such importance was unprecedented. And it made him feel like crap.

            He had to tell Moritz. It had been going on for a couple months, and their friendship would be irrevocably destroyed if he didn’t. Maybe Moritz would reject him or think he was disgusting, but at least he would know the truth. At least he wouldn’t have to keep it bottled up inside anymore.

            Did he hope that Moritz reciprocated? Yes. Of course he did. But he wasn’t aiming to get  Moritz to fall in love with him. He just wanted to make sure that the most important relationship in his life wouldn’t be destroyed.

            Once he had made up his mind to tell Moritz, he attempted a few times and ended up backing out. It was overwhelming. And he knew it would change things permanently between them.

            It had to be done. It had to be done. Melchior would lose his best friend if he didn’t.

            They were sitting on Melchior’s bed, an unfortunate venue choice, but that was where they usually sat when they were in Melchior’s room, and it would look weird to just suddenly sit somewhere else. Melchior had made sure to put a considerable amount of room between him and Moritz.

            “This is the third time this week you’ve said you had something to talk to me about.”

            “I know.” Melchior was staring at the ground. It was uncharacteristic of him.

            “So, what is it this time? More on the new prime minister of England? What kind of mushrooms grow in the woods near our house?”

            “No, I-“

            “I’m just saying, Melchi, you’ve been seriously abusing the phrase “I need to talk to you.””

            “I know,” said Melchior. “I’ve been trying to say this all week. But I’m really going to now.”

            That caught Moritz’s attention. “What’s going on?”

            “It’ s just-“ Melchior took a deep breath. He looked up, then at Moritz. “We’ve been best friends for almost eight years now.”

            Moritz furrowed his brow. “Yeah,” he said. “We have.”

            “And you’re my best friend! I mean, you’ll always be my best friend. That’s what we are. Best friends.”

            Moritz looked seriously concerned. “What are you trying to say?”

            “And I care about you, a lot, and the idea of our relationship changing was terrifying.”

            “Our relationship is changing?” Moritz’s voice was quiet. Wary.

            “No! I mean-“ Melchior rubbed his hands together. “We’re both older now. Things change.”

            Moritz was still looking at him. He looked scared, almost. But his attention was fixated on Melchior.

            Melchior inhaled, then looked him straight in the eyes. “Idon’twanttobefriendsanymore.”

            Moritz immediately went pale. “What?”

            “I didn’t know how to tell you, but I knew that I had to tell you, because it wasn’t fair, and-“

            Moritz cut him off. “You don’t want to be _friends_ with me anymore?” His voice had an edge of hysteria to it.

            “What?” Melchior, for the first time, realized what he had said. “What? No. No no no no no, that’s not what I-“

            “I mean, I knew you were acting weird lately.”

            “Moritz, just-“

            “And that you’ve felt awkward around me for the last couple of months.”

            “Yeah, I-“

            “But I thought it was just problems with Wendla, or at home or something! I didn’t think you all of a sudden didn’t want to be my friend!” Moritz’s voice cracked on the last word, and he angrily wiped at the skin under his eyes.

            “Moritz, please-“

            “We’ve been best friends for years.” His voice was softer now, and he was staring at the ceiling. Melchior had known Moritz long enough to know that he was trying not to let anyone see that he was crying. “I mean, I know that I’m awkward and kind of pathetic and nervous all the time, but I’ve always been like that. I always thought you were okay with that.”

            “I am! And you’re-“

            Moritz was gripping his bedsheet, his knuckles white. “I mean, what did I do? Why is this happening all of a sudden?”

            “Moritz, that’s not what I meant to say!”

            Moritz turned to face Melchior so quickly that Melchior jumped slightly. “That’s not what you meant to say? What were you going to do, try to be nice about it? Try to let me know in an _easier, gentler_ manner that my best friend all of a sudden doesn’t want to be friends with me anymore? Well, tough luck, Melchior! The world doesn’t work that way! You can’t say things like that to people and not expect their feelings to be hurt! You-“

            “ _I’minlovewithyou!_ ”

            Moritz stopped talking, right in the middle of his word. His syllable, even. He steadied himself and fixated his gaze on Melchior intensely enough to burn a hole through his head.

            Melchior swallowed. “I’m in love with you,” he repeated. He let out a small laugh. “I have been for a while, I think. I just realized it a couple months ago, and-“

            Moritz’s grip on the sheets was easing up.

            “And you’re my best friend! I’ve been trying to keep it from you, but that’s not right! I can’t keep something that big from you. So I’m telling you now. I don’t- I don’t expect anything from you. I just thought you should know. And that’s what I was trying to say. That lately I had found myself not wanting to be _only_ friends with you. It came out wrong.”

            Moritz let out a relieved half-laugh, half-sob. “Yeah,” he said. “No kidding.”

            Melchior waited.

            “I really thought you meant-“

            “I know.”

            “And that you wanted-“

            “I know.”

            “God, Melchi, you can’t just _tell_ people things like that.”

            “I’m sorry,” said Melchior. “I’m really, really sorry.”

            Moritz smiled slightly. “I guess in a few years we’ll laugh about this.”

            Melchior nodded.

            “You really-“

            “Yeah.”

            “This whole time?”

            “This whole time.”

            Moritz frowned. He stared at the sheets. “Why?”

            “Why? What do you mean, why?”  

            “Why are you in love with me?”

            Melchior paused. He thought for a second. “You really want to know?”

            “I really do.”

            Melchior touched his shoulder. Just slightly. “You’re Moritz. I mean, I could give you a whole list of why you’re amazing, but it just comes down to that. You’re Moritz and I’m Melchior and, I mean, I think it was always going to turn out this way. You know how cynical I was about love for a long time.”

            Moritz grinned. “Love is an evolutionary feature that evolved to ensure the growth of populations,” he quoted.

            “Right,” said Melchior. “But I loved you. As a friend. And now I still love you. Not just as a friend. So…” He let himself trail off. “Just tell me you don’t hate me.”

            “I don’t hate you,” said Moritz. He scooched closer to Melchior on the bed.

            Melchior waited.

            “I-“ said Moritz. He studied the wall. “Can we take things slowly?”

            Something happened in Melchior’s brain upon hearing that phrase. “Wait,” he said. “So you-“

            “Are in love with you?” asked Moritz. He fiddled with his shirt cuffs for a minute, then two. “I think so. I mean, yes.”

            Melchior hadn’t actually thought this would happen. He had hoped it would. He had tried to convince himself that it was a possibility. But, really, the best outcome he had hoped for was Moritz not telling him he was disgusting. “Moritz-“

            “You never answered my question.” He was talking quietly, but his voice was more sure.

            It took Melchior a moment, thinking back. “That? Yeah, yeah, of course, of course I would never ask-“

            Moritz was smiling now, and something clicked in Melchior’s mind.

            “Maybe we could just hold hands,” said Moritz. “For now.”

            A gust of air like a laugh escaped from Melchior’s throat. Moritz turned to him, questioningly, and Melchior reached out, unfolded Moritz’s fist, and laced Moritz’s fingers through his own. “That was how it all started,” he explained. “I was holding Wendla’s hand, and I realized that I wanted it to be you.”

            Moritz grinned. “How tame,” he said. “Especially coming from you.”

            Melchior squeezed his hand. “You’ve turned me soft.”

            “I did tell you, when you were kids,” said Moritz quietly. “That you would change your mind about love.”

            “Yeah,” said Melchior. “Yeah, turns out you were right.”

            “I could have told you that,” said Moritz, almost under his breath, and he’s smiling and smiling and smiling down at Melchior’s hand in his.


End file.
